The bus scuds away in a cloud of dust
Squealing away in a rushing gust.
She scuffs her new Converse against tough roots
Dirt and puddles in cahoots.
Avoiding bright yellow slashes,
She – one, two three – dashes!
Down the hill she hurries, back pack
Hitting her with each step: smack thwack.
She turns around the bend, brushing
Away the trees on the path, rushing
Down the driveway – quick – grab
Mail, twist house key, give door a jab.
Inside, the slam of the front door,
Throwing the back pack against the floor.
Then up the stairs to where Mom will prepare
A delicious snack she won’t want to share.